


all i see are stars

by MermaidMarie



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 11:16:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20007421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MermaidMarie/pseuds/MermaidMarie
Summary: Prompt on Tumblr: things you said when you were drunk.In which Quentin and Eliot look at the stars.





	all i see are stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ramblingsofaqueerwoman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramblingsofaqueerwoman/gifts).



> Thank you to ramblingsofaqueerwoman for this prompt!!

Sometimes, it seemed like Eliot was channeling Jay Gatsby with some of the parties he threw.

Quentin couldn’t help but wonder—just a little—if there was someone he was hoping would show up. What would Eliot’s Daisy Buchanan even look like? Some tall, beautiful man who dressed well and knew about wine, probably. Some tall, beautiful man with a suave smirk and a graceful presence.

Some tall, beautiful man, who wasn’t anxious or depressed or neurotic or nerdy. Someone who was nothing like Quentin, in other words.

Someone that could match Eliot.

Quentin couldn’t _imagine_ someone matching Eliot Waugh, but who knew, maybe it was possible.

He didn’t manage to get close to Eliot much at this party. That was a pretty common occurrence, really—if Quentin didn’t start the night with Eliot, it was hard to break through the line of people who would crowd around him.

Quentin usually ended up sitting in the corner at _those_ parties, hoping he’d turn invisible. The parties just really weren’t as much fun if he wasn’t hanging out with Eliot. And yeah, okay, maybe it was a little clingy—but Eliot didn’t _seem_ to mind. He’d just throw an arm over Quentin’s shoulders and guide him around, shooting jokingly flirty comments, probably just to watch Quentin get awkward and flustered.

Well. Tonight was one of the parties where Quentin lost sight of Eliot early on.

It wasn’t as fun, but whatever. It was fine. Quentin couldn’t just live his life following Eliot around anyway. It was pathetic.

And anyway, what if Eliot didn’t want to hang out with him? Quentin wasn’t about to risk annoying him. He was lucky Eliot considered him a friend at all.

The party was winding down, and Quentin was sobering up. This happened a lot—he kept meaning to find something else to drink, but he’d get distracted or nauseous or he’d feel too awkward to go to the kitchen. It was a whole thing.

So by the time people were passing out on couches, Quentin wasn’t _sober,_ but he was far enough away from drunk that his anxiety was back full force. The fun benefit of feeling calmer was gone, but the _extra_ fun side effect of being dizzy was still there.

Quentin eventually found Eliot on the patio out back, staring up at the stars. Back on Gatsby in Quentin’s mind, he wondered about the green light on the pier, if Eliot was yearning for some faraway dream as he watched the sky. If he was reaching for something, hands outstretched.

It took a few moments for Eliot to notice him.

Eliot’s face broke out in a grin, the unguarded, wide eyes that had been watching the stars gone. “Q! Get over here,” Eliot called, gesturing.

Quentin smiled a little. Eliot was _drunk._

He headed over, and Eliot grabbed his wrist, pulling him down to the bench. Eliot stretched his legs out across Quentin’s lap, lounging back.

“Comfortable?” Quentin said, raising an eyebrow.

“Like I’m on a cloud,” Eliot replied. His words weren’t _quite_ slurring, but they weren’t as steady and controlled as usual.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Watching the stars, Quentin dear, watching the stars.”

Quentin looked up. The sky was incredibly clear. He could pick out constellations.

“Find what you’re looking for?”

“Hm. Not quite.” Eliot stretched his arms over his head. “Not a single shooting star yet. Pity. I was going to make a wish.”

“Oh yeah? What were you going to wish for?”

Eliot glanced at him, smiling a little. “Well, it’s not genie rules, is it? I was going to wish for more shooting stars to wish on.”

“Is that allowed?”

“I don’t see why not.” Eliot nudged Quentin’s arm. “Missed you tonight. Where did you disappear to?”

Quentin looked over at him, a little startled. “Um.”

“Making out with some girl in the corner? Hiding in your room with the Fillory books?” Eliot smiled wryly, but he seemed at least partially serious. “I barely saw you all night.”

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” Quentin said, without thinking. It was true, though—of course _he_ noticed when he didn’t see Eliot. Eliot was magnetic, everyone noticed him. He could be larger than life when he wanted to be, showing off while he made drinks and dazzling everyone with his smooth flirting.

People didn’t notice Quentin. Not in the same way. They had to remember his existence on purpose.

“Oh, Q,” Eliot said, his tone bordering on condescension. “I always notice you.”

Immediately, Quentin’s heart pounded against his ribs. Just what in the hell was he supposed to do with _that?_

“Um—I, um—you, uh…” he stammered.

Eliot let out a laugh. “Quentin, _relax._ You’re cute—everyone notices you.”

_And just what in the hell was Quentin supposed to do with that?_

“Um.” Quentin couldn’t find words anymore. Eliot must’ve been drunker than he thought—one of those effusively nice types of drunk, the kind of drunk where you were warm and happy so you said things you didn’t really mean.

Yeah, that _had_ to be it.

“You’re bad at taking compliments, you know that?” Eliot said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

Quentin frowned a little, looking down and hiding his face behind his hair as much as he could.

“Um.” _God,_ he couldn’t get a real sentence out.

“I tried to find you,” Eliot said. It sounded like it was more to himself than anything else.

Yeah, Quentin must’ve misjudged—Eliot had to be drunker than he seemed. He wasn’t making sense.

Eliot opened his eyes again, back to looking at the stars.

Quentin stared for a few moments, struck by how light and clear they were. He’d never seen Eliot look so bare and unguarded—so sincerely shedding the façade. It was—well, it kind of hit Quentin like a sharp stab in the heart.

There was really so little he knew about Eliot. _This_ Eliot, this person beneath all of the dazzling smoke and mirrors. Beneath the clothes and the armor.

Quentin was almost afraid to say anything, for fear that the moment would break. He didn’t want to lose this.

But he couldn’t stop himself from asking—

“Why?”

“Hm?”

“Why were you trying to find me?”

The corner of Eliot’s mouth twitched up in a slight smile. A distant look, a little sad—the kind of expression that made Quentin feel like the depth Eliot tried to hide was getting close to visible. Like he might really catch a glimpse.

“I wanted to,” Eliot said simply.

_And just what in the hell was Quentin supposed to do with that?_


End file.
